Perseverence
by Spobylicious
Summary: "And then, I saw him. Really saw him. Not as an enemy, not as a competitor. As a friend." AU Spoby. Multichapter.
1. Prologue

**Hi! This is my very first story. The idea for the prompt goes to my friend, who commented in the lack of any boarding school Spoby. So I tried giving it a shot! Please review, and constructive criticism is always appreciated!**

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"You see this, Spence?" Peter Hastings asked, showing his 12-year-old daughter the pamphlet he had been referring to. The glossy tri-fold showed pictures of beautiful lawns and architecture so beautiful that it could rival Hogwarts. "Benedict's Academy of Learning. It's incredibly hard to get into, but I know you can. Well, at least if you keep pulling 100s," he said with a chuckle.

"I see it, Dad", the skinny brunette said sweetly. Spencer, her mom and her dad were clustered around their island in their kitchen, staring at Spencer's gateway to success. Her large, mocha eyes widened as she thought of how many clubs she would have to join to be deemed "worthy" by the admission board. She brushed a lock of chocolate-colored hair off her face, making a mental note to stop by Barnes & Noble on her way home from school the next day. She needed some books so she could start studying as soon as possible.

"You think you can get in, Spence?", her father asked, already knowing her reply.

Before she could reply, her mother answered for her, simply stating "she will." For most people, a parent saying such a thing with the level of confidence Veronica radiated would bring some comfort, knowing that their parent thought so highly of them.

Spencer, however, knew what her mother's statement really meant: _you'd better._

Mr. and Mrs. Hastings were never people Spencer felt like she could trust or confide in. The Hastings certainly had an uncommon parenting philosophy: raise your child for maximum success. Push them from Point A to Point B, push them into one sport, two clubs, three hours of volunteer work. Fill their resumes with impressive feats ensured to impress. Raise them to know that an A minus was atrocious, Vice President of the student body was weak, and anything less than team captain was nothing short of failure. Teach them parents shouldn't show love; a parent's sole purpose was to lead you from the womb to an Ivy League. That anything less than perfection was failure.

The Hastings' parenting certainly worked on their eldest, Melissa; a straight-A student with a scholarship to UPenn.

No one was denying the effectiveness of their philosophy. No one but Spencer. For most of Spencer's life, she had felt alone.

She never thought she'd have a safe place to land.

But in a few short years, she would.

It would still take her a while to realize it, though.

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**So? How was it? Please let me know. It was short, but I just needed to set the stage. The next chapter will be longer, I promise. This fic is going to be multi-chapter, it will be mostly Spoby-centric, and Emily, Aria, and Hanna will also be making appearances. . This is AU, and A doesn't exist. Any drama will be created by non-deadly sources. Alison probably won't be in this, either. But you'll just have to wait and see.**


	2. to start it all

**I am so, so, sorry about how long this took! I have so much going on. And, unfortunately, more since school is starting again on the 2nd. I'll try to update faster next time!**

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I take a deep breath as I stare up at the impressive structure- multiple stories tall, stone, with rows and rows of large windows. I'm here. Benedict's Academy of Learning- an almost annoyingly-prestigious boarding school in upper Pennsylvania. The architecture was obviously made to give the appearance of a Gothic-era castle- maybe to impose a sense of good repute, but with it's illustrious history, there really was no need. I am standing on by ticket to any college I desire. I made it.

The entrance exam was easy. 200 questions about anything from geometry to mid-7th century China.

I aced it.

When the acceptance letter came back, it contained a special note, telling my parents to recognize my accomplishment- the first person to get all of the questions right in over three decades. My father did nothing more than ruffle my hair and say, "nothing less than the best for Spencer Hastings."

I turn my head and watch his car pull out of the parking lot. Even though I wouldn't see him for two and a half months, he didn't even bother to give me a hug.

A young man steps in front of my field of vision.

"'Scuse me, miss, need some help with your bags?" He wears a navy-blue shirt emblazoned with Benedict's logo on it, showing he was a staff member hired to help students move into their new dorms.

"Uh, yes", I mumble, heaving the straps of my

Coach borough bag over my shoulder. He quickly gathered the rest of my bags and plopped them on the dolley he brought over with him.

"What's your dorm number, miss?

"215-C", I say, with more confidence than I previously had. He led me through the main entrance of the school, which on the inside, was just as imposing as the exterior of the school. We squeezed through people dressed in navy plaid, bouncing around as they greeted their friends after a long summer apart. He led me through elevators and hallways, until we reached the wing I would be living in.

"Your dorm is at the end of the hall", he said with a smile, pushing the trolley towards me. He then turned and left.

The long, narrow hallway was stuffed to the breaking point with girls dressed similar to me: light blue button-up dress shirts with navy sweater vests over top, with the Benedict's crest over the right breast pocket, skinny, tan-colored pants, and black shoes.

The hallway was blue, just like everything else. Apparently, I would be living a very monochromatic life.

It took forever to reach my dorm. I knew that this school had a 4% acceptance rate; so just how many people had actually applied? There seemed to be hundreds of girl's in this wing of dorms alone. I took my key to my new dorm out of my pocket . This is it. After this, I said to myself, no more parents, no more sisters, just myself. I smiled at the thought. I then unlocked the door and saw my new room.

It was larger than I expected; with a huge window overlooking the campus, you could see most of the buildings that made up the school. The walls were white, as was the ceiling. Two white twin beds were positioned at the upper most corner of the room, with a desk at its foot, and a wardrobe next to it. The room was a mirror image, except on one side of the room, where the door was on my side, their was an entrance to a small, yet clean and modern bathroom. The room was empty. I guess my new bunk buddy was yet to arrive.

I decided to unpack. After unloading my suitcases and pushing the trolley back into the hallway, I turned to look at the room, deciding where to hang my posters and pictures. I heard the door open and spun around.

A girl, who I presumed to be my new roommate, was walking into our room. She was short, barely over 5 foot, and had long, brown hair, streaked with bright pink strands. She added these little personal flares to her school uniform: golden bangles, black Doc Martens, and forks for earrings. Although I would never wear any of those, I loved that she let her personality shine through.

When she saw me staring at her, she flushed a deep red. Wanting to not give the wrong impression, I immediately walked over to her and extended my hand. "Hi", I said, as friendly as I possibly could. "I'm Spencer".

She took my hand and tentatively shook it. "Aria." After studying my face for a moment, realization dawned on her. "You're Spencer Hastings?" She asked incredulously.

"In the flesh."

"So you're the first in decades to ace the acceptance test?" She looked at me in awe. I immediately became embarrassed, and tried to play it off as pride. After all, a Hastings doesn't show weakness, especially after being complimented.

"If that's what they're saying." I tried to change topics. "Do you want any help with your bags?"

She smiled. "Yeah, sure! Thanks. Can you grab that one?", She points to a rollaway in the doorframe.

"Of course". I grab it, and sensing that the ice has melted, asked, "where are you from?"

We talked until dinner. By the time we walked into the dining hall, I was sure she was my new best friend.

We sat down at one of the circular tables. It seated four, so we took the stools across from each other. She was talking about some guy she met in a bar. I was wondering how she passed for 21 when she was obviously under 16 when I heard someone behind me ask, " Excuse me, are these seats taken?"

I turned around and saw two girls about our age, holding lunchtrays, looking at us uncertainly. The one who had just spoken was taller, about my height, with bronze-colored skin and long, shiny black hair. To her right was a slightly-shorter blonde who's five-inch heels made up for the height difference.

Aria piped up. Sure! What's your names?"

The darker-haired one extended her hand, saying "I'm Emily."

"Spencer", I said, shaking her hand. Aria and the blonde, whose name was Hanna, were making similar pleasantries. The two girls sat down, and Hanna immediately began jabbering.

"I can't believe the amount of counter space they're giving us. We're fifteen year-old girls! Not even half my makeup can fit on the vanity. And Emily hasn't even unpacked her stuff."

I shared a smirk with Aria. Hanna would definitely be fun to have around.

"What about you, Emily? Do you enjoy anything as much as Hanna enjoys cosmetics?"

She smiled. "I love to swim. That's actually the reason I'm here; I got a scholarship for the swim team."

"Wow." I was impressed. I was the captain of the field hockey team, so I knew how hard it was to get a spot in any sport, let alone a scholarship.

We started to talk about ourselves: our likes and dislikes, our favorite foods, books, movies, and television shows, the celebrities we're crushing on and the celebrities we hated, and our friends and family back home.

We were in the midst of FMK when Hanna's eyed darted upwards. "Damn. I would F _and_ M that guy."

The three of us whipped around to see a boy, about our age, carrying a stack of books along with his plate of food. He had dark brown hair, with hints of bronze that flashed when the sun hit them just right. His well-sculpted jawline was clenched, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on his book. His sky-blue eyes followed the words he was reading, taking them in, just as I always did.

Aria chuckled. "He gets more wrapped up in books than Spencer does."

Emily and Hanna laughed as I exclaimed, "Excuse me! You've only seen me read once. And it was a textbook."

Aria turned to the two and said, "AP Russian History. That's a senior-level class."

Emily laughed and pointed to the boy's stack of books. "Look, that's what he's reading too!"

"Maybe Brainiac Boy will be Spencer's new man candy!" Hanna said suggestively, laughing as she did so.

I smacked her arm. "I'm not here for a boyfriend, I'm here for the high-level education program and easy entrance to the Ivy Leagues."

All of them laughed. Emily checked her phone and said, "We should probably get going. The introductory assembly starts soon."

We cleared our trays and made our way over to the auditorium. The front section of the seats was reserved for freshman like us. Because we were one of the last to get here, it was packed. Finding four seats together was impossible, so Hanna and I sat a row behind Emily and Aria. Hanna leaned over to me, whispering, "these are supposed to be _so lame. _They just go over the rules, say 'have a great year!' and send us off to do homework. This year, they're also giving out these awards to a couple of geniuses that aced the acceptance exams."

I stifled a laugh and whispered back to her, "_I _am one of those geniuses who aced the acceptance exam."

She turned to me and said, "Seriously? Wow. You'll definitely be helping me pass Algebra this year."

I chuckled. The room turned silent as a man walked on to the stage. He turned to the microphone and said, "Hello, students. I am Dr. McGeehan, headmaster of Benedict's Academy of Learning. This is an advanced school to prepare you for college..." he continued to explain the rules (just as Hanna said) or what he called them, "The Code of Conduct". After a brief period of time, he said, "As many of you know, our entrance exam is one of the hardest tests any of you will ever take. It's extremely hard to get an acceptable grade on it, let alone a perfect score. No one has done it in two decades. At least, until today. This year, not just one freshman was able to get a 100, _two_ did. Will you please welcome to Benedict's, Spencer Hastings!..." The crowd stood up and erupted into applause. I shimmied down my row and into the aisle, walking onto the stage, grinning from ear to ear.

_Good job, Hastings,_ I thought to myself._ You did it. Three years of hard work is paying off, right now, and it will continue to for the rest of my life. _As I was presented my award, Dr. McGeehan said, "... And Toby Cavanaugh!"

I froze in place. Someone was making walking up to the stage, accepting the award, shaking the headmaster's hand, and turning toward me, extending his hand to shake mine. I did a double-take as I realized that Toby Cavanaugh was, as Hanna put it, my "Braniac Boy."

I plastered on a smile and shook his hand, which was strong and tough and warm. But I couldn't think about that now; he was no longer a dating option. He was a competitor. He shared something from me, something that was rightfully mine.

His genuine smile made mine just all the more forced.


	3. unspoken truths

**This chapter is sort of a filler chapter, sorry. And I promise that I'll update by Sunday!**

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**Three years later**

"I cannot believe this. I can't." I paced back and forth across the carpet next to my bed, static electricity flowing into my hair, causing it to stand on end. My aggravated tone must have tipped Aria off, because she stopped writing in her journal and glanced up at me.

"What, did you get a 98 on your French test, instead of your usual 100?" she said sarcastically.

"No." I stopped pacing to look up at her. "I'm second in the class!"

"Oh no, how terrible!" Hanna, our friend who lived across the hall said as she opened our door. "Did poor, little Spencer Hastings not do perfectly on the last test?"

"Me? I did fine fine. 100 even. But _he _did better!" I say. thrusting my phone towards her and groaned. On the screen, under class rankings, was my name- in the second spot.

"Ooh! Toby Cavanaugh got 120!" Aria exclaimed. "How did he do that? I didn't even know that was an option."

"Neither did I! That's the first extra credit assignment I missed in French! Ever!"

"Calm down, Spence. We all know the real reason you're so heated over this."

Hanna was right. I wasn't that pissed about being second. The real reason I was mad was because of who was first.

Toby Cavanaugh is the smartest person I've ever met, myself excluded. We've been rivals since the beginning of freshman year, when we both aced the acceptance exam. Since then, Toby and I have been at each other's throats, competing for the best grade, the student body president, the captain of every sport. Right now, in our little war, I was winning, since I was elected class president. But now, since he has the highest GPA? The game was on.

"Whatever. I can't worry about this now. AP Calculus starts in ten minutes, and I need to talk to Dr. Robinson." I grabbed my bag and waltzed out the door.

Why was I so aggravated over this? I'll probably get a better score on the oral presentation tomorrow and things will even out. Toby wasn't someone I could take lightly.

I trotted down the stairs, out of the junior and senior's dorm wing. The chemistry lab was situated immediately to the left, and straight ahead was the boy's dorms. Just as I turned the corner to my next class, an all-too familiar voice rang out from behind me.

"Hey there, Hastings." I turned around and saw a Toby, his tall frame clothed in khakis and a baby-blue button-up that accented his eyes.

_Shut up, Spencer._

"Good to see you too, Cavanaugh." He fell into step with me.

"So what are you up to now? I'm guessing you're on your way to some college-level class, seeing the way you're walking so arrogantly."

"Me, arrogant? Your Burberry speaks for itself," I sighed.

"The only way to identify arrogance is by seeing it in yourself," he said to me.

I stopped and looked at him. "Why are you talking to me like Ben Franklin?"

He let out a chuckle. His hair, which was styled in a quiff, shone beautifully in the sunlight.

_I can't think about him like that._

Just as he started to become friendly, a switch was flipped and I remembered everything that had happened between us. I know what will happen if we become friends: I'll get soft on him and he'll swoop in and grab my title as out valedictorian from under me.

I saw my classroom AP Calc was in and, without another word, walked into the room without saying goodbye.

I threw a glance over my shoulder to see how he reacted, and his expression took me by surprise. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes wide, a mask of hurt was plastered across his face.

When he saw me looking, he shook his head and walked away.

I was confused about two things. One, the reason why he was upset at me. And two, why I was upset by how hurt I had made him.

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Hanna caught up with me after my class. "Hey, when is your next class?"

I pulled out my phone. "15 minutes."

"Great! Let's grab a coffee. I am _dying_ for an iced latte. No matter what I do, I can't understand Biology. I don't care about how a cell divides, it just does."

I laughed and looped my arm through hers. "Come on, let's go."

Hanna and I tried to hang out at least once a week between classes. Since almost all of the classes I was taking were AP, and none of hers were, our schedules didn't coincide much. So in an effort to spend some time together, we usually grabbed a very necessary midday caffeine boost.

We had almost made it to the espresso cart when she commented, "Toby was really pissed when he came into class."

I stiffened, and carefully asked, "Why?"

She shrugged and said, "I don't know. He wouldn't answer any questions and whenever someone talked to him, he would just ignore them."

I felt my heart flutter, whilst a bad feeling crept down my spine. I brushed it off and shrugged. "That's not my problem. I don't care about Toby Cavanaugh, so why would you tell me this?"

Hanna glanced uneasily at me. "Because you know that's not true."

I stared at the lid of my large triple-shot, memorizing the pattern of the sleeve and the direction the steam blew off the top of the coffee. Was it really this obvious? Sure, I tended to crush on smart guys. But Toby wasn't like them. I hated him, him and his great attitude and amazing smile. And I couldn't forget his GPA. I hated him, but I also respected him. A lot. But that's all I would ever see in him: a straight-A student who was a force to be reconciled with. And that's all. So I played dumb and asked, "what's not true?"

"You not caring about Toby Cavanaugh. It's so damn obvious you do. And you know why I'm telling you _this?_ " Hanna didn't wait for me to answer. "Because it's really obvious he cares about you too."


	4. the effect you have on my mind

**Hi. I'm so, so sorry about the delay. I have almost no free time, so I try and work on this when I can. I promise my next update will be faster. ****Also, listen to "Tee Shirt" by Birdy when reading this. It perfectly describes Spoby's viewpoint towards each other in this chapter.**

**I do not own PLL.**

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I sigh and plop down at a nearby table. The barista in charge of the cafe glared at me, probably because I was the only thing stopping her from locking up early and going home. It was Friday, and most people had finished up their classes and had gone home for the weekend. I, on the other hand, had just completed a beginning-of-the-year French exam. I was up studying almost the entire night, and had just purchased my fourth large coffee. I closed my eyes and raised the drink to my lips.

"Whoa there, Hastings. I don't think you really need more caffeine. I mean, you already have the shakes."

I froze in place as a tidal wave of affection and annoyance crashed over me.

"Since you know me _so well_, Cavanaugh, you should be aware of the fact that no one comes between me and my coffee."

It had been almost a month since Hanna and I's fateful little rendezvous. Almost a month since I realized that I didn't hate Toby Cavanaugh; in fact, quite the opposite. Now, whenever I see him, I take a ride on an emotional roller coaster. I used to consider myself quite a conversationalist, but now I'm not so sure. I never know what to say. It's not like I become the walking stereotype for an infatuated schoolgirl. I still had some pride.

A few weeks ago, I cornered him after Biochemistry. _"Look, we have to talk."_

_He looked at me skeptically. "Why? I thought you didn't want anything to do with me."_

_I shifted my books from one hip to the other. He stood defensively, arms crossed, stiff as a board. Only his face betrayed his his emotionless exterior._

_"No, I only thought I didn't want to like you. I've been thinking, and I feel as though being friends, not enemies, will benefit us both."_

_I could tell my new found outlook confused him. "Or, in simpler definitions: I don't want to hate you."_

_"I don't want to hate you, either", he said, a hint of a smile played across his face._

_I stuck out my hand. "Not enemies?"_

_He shook it. "Not enemies."_

_I wondered if Toby felt the little sparks of electricity that traveled through our hands when they touched, or if it was just me._

I snapped out of my little daydream and looked up at Toby. He had just asked me a question, and was waiting for a reply. "I'm sorry, what?"

He chuckled and sat down next to me, taking the coffee out of my hand. I didn't make any movement to stop him. He said, gently, "How long since you last slept?"

I shrugged. "I took a nap yesterday."

"Spencer, that was twenty minutes long!"

"It's sleep. It counts."

"No Spence, it doesn't."

After just a few weeks, Toby and I had become good friends. We spent lots of time together, mostly studying. At first, it was awkward. Neither of us knew what to say. But within a week, things were good. We were friends. We had inside jokes, songs that made us crack up. He was someone I genuinely enjoyed spending time with.

He looked at his phone. "It's almost seven. The cafe closes in a few minutes. You should probably go back to your dorm."

I shrugged, grabbing my bag. "It's a Friday night. Why aren't you off at a party, or at least away from here?", I said, gesturing to the empty school.

"Why aren't you?"

I smiled. "You win this one, Cavanaugh."

"And the next one, and the next one.." he chuckled.

I smacked him on the shoulder, exclaiming "You'll see!"

He rolled his eyes and turned around, beckoning for me to come with him. We fell into step as we walked towards the senior's dormitories. We walked in comfortable silence. That's one of the reasons I loved spending time with Toby: no words were necessary. I was nice, to rest a little as we enjoyed each other's presence. Everything in my life was so hectic and exhausting, and I know Toby feels the same way.

We got to the end of the hallway, where it splits into three paths: to the left, the girl's dorms; the right, the guy's; and straight ahead was a Chemistry lab.

I turned to face him, grabbing for my key to my room. After a second, I whispered, "oh, shit."

He turned to me, alarmed. "What is it, Spencer?"

"There's a small chance I may have left my French binder at the cafe..."

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

I sheepishly finished my sentence. "And, it had my key ring in it."

He chuckled. "Spencer, you can name all of the President's birthdays, but you can't remember to grab _your keys?_"

"Hey!" I said defensively. "You said it yourself, I'm exhausted!"

He smiled but then realized my predicament. "Did Aria already leave for the weekend?"

"She's at her house in Philly."

"Does Emily or Hanna have a spare key?"

"Yes, but they left right after school, they're going to a concert." I sighed. How could I be so stupid?

Toby took a step forward. "Hey, don't beat yourself up over this. This happens to the best of us."

"Yeah, but not when the entire school has already left for the weekend," I pointed out.

He smiled. "Fortunately for you, I'm still here. If you want, you can stay in my room."

I froze. Did he really just ask me that? To spend the night? In his room?

I know he's done this with Emily before. But that was different. Main reason being because her family didn't let her come home the weekend she came out of the closet.

He must have seen the expression on my face, his becoming red. "D-don't worry, only if you want to."

Not wanting to offend him, I quickly said "No, no, no, I was just surprised. And thank you, I would love to. You're a lifesaver, Toby."

He smiled. "No problem. There is one thing, though. I don't have a roommate. Just me."

"Um, that's good," I said, confused by why he thought it was so important to tell me.

I must have missed the point of what he was saying, because he said, "Because I don't have a roommate, I only have one bed. It's a queen, so there will be plenty of space. If you don't want to stay in my room now, that's fine."

What other option did I have? "That won't be a problem at all."

"Okay, that's good," he said, smiling. "Come on, you've got to be exhausted. Let's go up to my dorm."

"Okay!", I said, following him up the staircase to the men's dorms. The hallway to his room was identical to the girl's.

He stopped a few doors in. "Here it is," he said quietly.

His room was a carbon copy to mine, except Aria and I's two beds were replaced by one much larger one. His room was bare, impersonal. Aria had plastered pictures and paintings all over our walls, and I hung up some awards and metals. Emily's side of her dorm was covered by poster's of her swimming icons; Hanna put up movie posters and pictures of shirtless guys (much to Em's displeasure). But Toby's contained nothing. It looked like a hotel room.

He noticed my look of confusion. "Yeah sorry. I just don't know how to decorate."

"You should get Hanna to help you with that," I said, laughing. "She's quite the interior decorator."

"I don't doubt it!" He said, swinging his book bag off his shoulder and on to his desk. I sat down on his desk chair, eyelids drooping.

He sat down on his bed. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way," he said gently, "but you can't be comfortable in that jacket, or that tie," he said.

I glanced down at my navy blazer and matching necktie. "I'm fine," I said bluntly. Actually, I was very uncomfortable, but I wasn't about to let Toby know that.

He turned to the closet, opening it and digging through some drawers until he came up with plaid pajama pants and a light blue long sleeve. "Top or bottom?" he said, holding up the clothes.

I started at him, shocked, before he smiled and said, "I'm just kidding." He threw the shirt to me and turned around, walking to the bathroom and closing the door.

Or, at least he thought he closed the door. I remained cracked open, reflecting onto the full-length mirror propped up on the opposite side of the room. I watched, still slightly taken aback, as he unbuttoned his shirt. My disgruntled thoughts were immediately forgotten as he shrugged off the shirt, revealing an impressive set of abs. He took a step forward, and my view was blocked by the door.

I felt a twinge of nervousness, and something else. I couldn't place what it was. I had certainly never felt it before.

He stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only the pajama pants. "It's free now, if you want to use it."

I grabbed the bottoms and mumbled yes, slipping past him.

* * *

When I emerged, he the lights were off and he lay on his bed, fast asleep. I stood awkwardly in the door frame, feeling vulnerable in just his shirt. It came down to almost my mid thigh, so I didn't have to worry about modesty.

I saw him lying there, and he looked so peaceful. So calm. A smile crossed my face as I laid down beside him, making sure to give us both lots of space.

As I drifted off to sleep, one thought crossed my mind: _I have never felt this way._


End file.
